Jemma’s [POV]
There's nothing colder than Connecticut in February except the silence of not having them in the same room bickering over who makes the next food run while they read contracts, talking out coding issues, or quarterly spreadsheets.
Father and Mother have officially cut me out of their lives. I have the icy letter on my dresser to prove it. The final line the coldest of all: Your shame is yours to carry alone.
In the three weeks since the quiet flight home I’ve managed to do absolutely nothing for myself except go to work and sleep.
“I can’t bear to apply for another school.”
“You can’t walk away from getting your degree. You only have a few months left and then you can do whatever it is you want.”
I pick at the ice cream tub sitting between me and Brooklyn,
